


And Then Victory

by dance_across



Category: due South
Genre: Gen, POV First Person, POV Frannie, Post-Victoria's Secret, Pre-Letting Go, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 05:11:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4906777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dance_across/pseuds/dance_across
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frannie visits Fraser in the hospital. Fraser doesn't say much. Dief stands guard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Then Victory

Fraser doesn’t look good, and that’s not something I say very often. Or ever. It’s probably the pain medication, making his face sit slack like that as he sleeps. Maybe the meds are even what’s making him sleep in the first place.

God, I hate hospitals. I hated being here when my idiot brother almost got his head blown off chasing the guy who snuffed Fraser’s dad, and I hate being here now. But, you know, I love Fraser. So here I am. Again.

I sit down. Not in the room’s only chair, because I’m pretty sure Fraser’s dog—wolf? right?—would eat me alive if I tried to take his place there. But no, I sit on the corner of Fraser’s bed. Right by the lumps that his feet are making under the covers. I kind of want to touch them, just through the blankets, but I don’t. It wouldn’t be right, touching him without him being awake to know.

So instead I just sit there and watch him sleep. And eventually I say, “Hey, Fraser?”

He doesn’t answer. Obviously.

I clear my throat. I didn’t count on how weird this would be, talking to a guy who’s sleeping. Even when I visited Ray in here, at least he was awake.

“It’s Frannie,” I tell him, just in case the meds are making him not recognize my voice. “Ray, um, doesn’t know I’m here. The idiot. I mean, he told me everything that happened, soon as we got back from Florida, then he said I shouldn’t come see you. Said I’d stress you out. But I won’t, I promise. Anyway, how could he really expect me to not come see you?”

I fidget with the hem of my skirt. Still no answer.

“Well, I guess he probably didn’t tell me _everything_ that happened. He never really does, when it’s stuff about work. But he told me you got shot, and he was the one who shot you, but he was aiming for somebody else, and he feels really bad about it. Obviously, right? Ha. Obviously he feels bad about it. He _shot_ you.”

I lean in, just a little, like he can hear me. Like we’re sharing a secret. And I add, “You just say the word, Frase, and I’ll shoot him right back. _Capisce_?”

He shifts. Just a tiny bit, just his head against his pillow—but I wasn’t expecting it, so it makes me jump.

“Hello?” I say. And I’m actually a little worried now. What if he wakes up in the middle of when I’m saying something to him? Something embarrassing? What if he wakes up and he’s so out of it that he thinks I’m Ray, or someone else? What if he wakes up and

 _and his meds have stripped away all that propriety and politeness and stuff, and he sees me here and he’s so happy that he can’t stop himself from saying how he’s always loved me back, and now that he’s been shot and almost died he knows exactly how precious life is and how little time we have on this earth, and he wants to spent the rest of it with me, and then I lean down and he leans up and_  
  
and oh God, Frannie, stop it, stop it, stop it. There’s a time and a place. This isn’t either one. Fraser’s hurt. Fraser almost _died_.

My throat closes up thinking about it, and I can’t stop myself from reaching over and putting my palm on his foot. I don’t mean for it to be sexy or anything. I just… I don’t know… I want to make sure he’s still alive. Still solid, and still real. And he is. He’s real. I can feel his ankle bones through the thin hospital blankets.

I wonder if they gave him socks to keep his feet warm.

But just as I’m trying to figure out whether it would be okay for me to lift up his blankets just enough to check, he shifts again, making me jerk my hand away. I look up, and he’s turned his head as far to the left as it’ll go. His forehead’s scrunched up, and I can’t tell if he’s hurting or if he’s thinking. Or something else.

He says something. I can’t tell for sure what it is, but it sounds a little like the word _victory_ , only slurred. Really slurred. Pain meds again.

“Victory?” I say.

Over on the chair, the dog—wolf!—perks up.

His next words are clearer. “Slow down,” he says. And then, “I’m coming.”

The wolf growls. But it seems like he’s growling at Fraser, not me, so I try and ignore him. Which isn’t easy. I mean, this is a _wolf_. Wolves are not easy to ignore.

“Shh,” I say. To Fraser, not to the wolf. “Shh, it’s okay.”

Then his forehead smooths out again, and his head relaxes, and he’s right back to where he was. Which is to say, totally conked out.

Still, I can’t help it. I have to ask. “Who’s gotta slow down, Frase?”

No answer.

“Where are you going?”

No answer. Again.

But when I think about it, I guess it does make sense. Fraser wants the world to slow down and wait for him, because he’s coming back. He’s getting well again, and then he’s coming back, so all those damned criminals had just better slow on down so he can be awake to catch them when they commit their crimes.

And then victory, right?

“Figures,” I say, smiling down at him. “You get shot, and you’re still worrying about saving the world. Well, stop it, okay? Worry about saving yourself instead. Just rest up and get better. And you remember what I said about my idiot brother.”

No answer.

I stand up. I hate this. I hate hospitals, I hate Ray for that bullet, and I hate Fraser not talking. No, I hate that Fraser _was_ talking and then he _stopped_. Somehow that just makes it worse.

“I gotta go, okay?” I say, trying not to sound as panicked as I feel. I’m not sure why. Maybe I’m still hoping, a little bit, that he can hear me. “I… probably won’t visit you again. Ray wouldn’t like it, and I… well, you’ll be better again before long. So next time I see you, you better be walking and talking. You got that, Frase?”

No answer. My stomach churns. But I’m right. I know it. He’ll be chasing bad guys again in no time. Something as dumb as a bullet can’t stop someone like Fraser. Not forever.

_Slow down. I’m coming._

I press a kiss to my fingertips, and then press my fingertips to his ankle. The same place I touched before. This time, it doesn’t make him move.

He sleeps. And I leave. I just hope he knows that if I could slow everything down for him, I would. Well, I mean, I can’t, because I’m just me.

But oh.

I would.


End file.
